Crazy Like a Fox
by Mara Greengrass
Summary: Cassandra Fraiser has some questions for Jack.


TITLE: Crazy Like a Fox  
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass  
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.  
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Heliopolis, yes. Others, just let me know.  
CATEGORY: Drama, Character study  
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G  
SUMMARY: Cassandra Fraiser has some questions for Jack.  
CONTINUITY: Late Season 5, but before the events of Meridian.  
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I'm making absolutely no money from this.  
NOTES: This was sparked by a discussion with Captain Average about certain aspects of the show and its characters, and why the Air Force objected to certain things and not others. Well, that's not very clear, but he'll remember the discussion, I think. Welcome to yet another short piece that got out of hand because my Jack muse wouldn't shut up. Thanks to Captain Average for the beta.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Cassie--as she was at great pains to explain to her mother--was too old for a babysitter. Janet Fraiser agreed, but didn't back down from her contention that at not quite 16, Cassie was also *not* old enough to stay alone in the house for two weeks while her mother was off on a mission.  
  
The discussion had degenerated into a rather nasty argument before Janet came up with a possible solution:   
  
"You could stay on base," she said.  
  
Cassie rolled her eyes. "No way, Mom. Cute soldiers are great, but that's less personal freedom than jail. I'm not giving up that much of my summer. How about I stay with Sam?"  
  
"Sam will be with me for at least a week or so. No deal."  
  
"Daniel?"  
  
"He's on Abydos while SG-1 has time off. How about Jack?"  
  
"Jack's not going fishing?" Cassie asked.  
  
"No, not this time." Janet laughed. "He's going to be around most of the time, and I'm sure he'll allow you some personal freedom."  
  
"But not too much," Cassie said gloomily.  
  
"That's the idea."  
  
"Okay, fine. I've got something I've wanted to talk to him about for a while anyway."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Jack was duly placed on Cassie-watching duty. He made the usual token protests (while Cassie wasn't present, of course) but it was a foregone conclusion that he wouldn't leave Cassie unsuperintended while her mother was gone. Besides, he liked the kid.  
  
The first few days went great. Jack deliberately didn't hover over her, and allowed her to do things like go to the mall with her friends and go to the movies. After all, he remembered what it was like to feel hemmed in by adults.  
  
When the weekend came, they watched movies, played Nintendo, and he even let her have friends over to his house.  
  
For *that*, Janet was going to owe him big-time, he decided. Lulled by his good relationship with Cassie, Jack had forgotten how much he disliked teenage girls in groups. Sure, Cassie could be whiny at times, and certainly argumentative, but she'd toned that down quite a bit since her near-death experience earlier in the year.  
  
After all, no matter how self-centered teens could be, even Cassie couldn't deny the lengths SG-1, General Hammond, and her mother had gone to in order to save her life. This had had a highly salutary effect on her attitude toward adults and her behavior thereto.  
  
The same could not, however, be said for her friends, whose names Jack instantly forgot as he mentally dubbed them Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail. All three were blonde, their straight hair pulled back in bouncing ponytails, their nearly identical clothing making them look like sinister clones.   
  
Restraining the urge to declare them a Goa'uld plot and shout for backup, Jack got out of their way as fast as possible--retreating to his small study and ceding the living room to the clo...teens.  
  
As the sun grew low in the sky, Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail finally disappeared into parental SUVs. The door to the study opened and Cassie leaned her head in. "It's safe to come out now," she said. "They're gone."  
  
Jack happily dropped Daniel's latest report--which he'd been attempting to read--on the desk with a loud thunk. "Not that I'm afraid of three teenagers,"  
  
"Of course not. So, are you ready to come out now and eat dinner?"  
  
"Absolutely. What are we having?"  
  
"What are you making?" she asked.  
  
Jack grinned and they went to rummage through his kitchen.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Dinner was an enjoyable mish-mash of foods they both liked, without much concern for how they went together. Fortunately, for Jack, Cassie was one of those rare teens who actually *liked* vegetables, so he wasn't worried about facing the wrath of Dr. Mom on her return.  
  
As the muted sounds of whatever annoying boy band Cassie liked this week echoed off his walls, Cassie nibbled the last bits of beef out of the stir-fry, and Jack finished off the one beer he'd allowed himself. (Cassie had begun to ask if she could have one, but closed her mouth at the look on his face. There were lines and there were *lines*.)  
  
Cassie was explaining the serious business that had brought her friends over. "And so Brian told Jodie that Sascha was going to ask her out."  
  
"Ask who out?" Jack asked with a straight face.  
  
"Why do you do that?" She tilted her head and looked at him seriously.  
  
"Because?" Jack leaned back, his flippant answer automatic.  
  
"No, I really want to know why you do that."   
  
"Why I do what?" Jack relaxed into the standard back-and-forth that always threw people off.  
  
"Act like an idiot."  
  
"You're calling me an idiot? Only your mom, Daniel, and Carter are allowed to say things like that."  
  
Cassie shook her head, looking annoyed. "No, you know darned well that I just said you act *like* an idiot, not that you *are* one. And I've always wondered why you try to act less intelligent than you are."  
  
Jack rubbed one eye to give himself some time to think. "I don't understand what you're getting at."  
  
She sighed her impatience. "Yes, you do. You nearly always understand, but you say things like that. You ask Sam stupid questions even when you know what she's talking about. You deliberately mangle everything Dr. Jackson or Teal'c says. You even do it to my mom."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes, really. I tried to explain it to Sam, when I was so sick 'cause of what Nirrti did, but she just ignored me."  
  
"Nirrti?"  
  
Cassie didn't deign to respond, just glared at him. He grinned, knowing she'd learned that particular glare from him, and stretched his arms above his head with a relaxed yawn. The kid was smart--this looked like it was going to be an interesting diversion.  
  
Still glaring a bit, Cassie tapped her fingers on the table. "Why? And don't even *think* about saying 'Because" again."   
  
Hmm, maybe she was picking up a few *too* many of his habits. "I don't know what you want me to say."  
  
She studied him closely, and he kept his face blank. "You like to piss people off, don't you?"  
  
A pause, while he pondered how to answer. Finally, he decided that she deserved a serious answer for asking a serious question. "That's certainly part of it."  
  
She waited for him to go on, then glared again, apparently realizing that was all he was going to say. "I swear, it's like pulling teeth."  
  
"Hmm." Jack decided he was enjoying himself now, and he was vastly curious to see what else she'd figured out.  
  
"You're going to make me guess, aren't you?"  
  
"Sharp kid."  
  
"I'm not a kid, I'm...you're getting off the subject again."  
  
"As I said, sharp."  
  
The annoying boy band CD ended, and Jack's choice of Carmina Burana clicked on, its energy a contrast to the stillness of the young woman across the table from him. He slid his beer bottle back and forth across the table, watching Cassie as she stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. He was content to wait.  
  
"You do realize," she said, "I'm not planning to tell anyone else whatever you say."  
  
"Damn straight."  
  
"Pulling teeth," she muttered, looking disgruntled.  
  
"Didn't anyone ever tell you men don't talk about these kinds of things?"  
  
"Yes, but why should I let that stop me?"  
  
"Good for you."   
  
Another pause. "Okay," she said slowly, "so you like to piss people off. It amuses you."  
  
"Yeees." He nodded, wondering if she'd take it to the next step.  
  
"How long have you been doing this?"  
  
That wasn't what he'd expected her to ask, and he had to think about it. How long? Oh. "Pretty much since I've been working on the Stargate project."  
  
"You mean, since Charlie died?"  
  
Breath knocked out of him by her bluntness, Jack could only nod. Nobody said it like that, they always danced around the words--the shock left him with an ache low in his chest. She was so lost in thought, she didn't even see his reaction, and he used the time to regain his calm, pushing away thoughts of that dark time.  
  
"So, it was kind of a defense mechanism." Cassie leaned forward, interested and excited in the topic--it made Jack feel old.  
  
"Have you been talking to the psychiatrists?"  
  
"No, taking a psychology class at school," she said seriously.  
  
He chuckled a bit at that.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oh, just all those years avoiding the shrinks, and now you're psychoanalyzing me."  
  
"I'm not!" She scowled at his laughter. "I'm just...I don't understand."  
  
"Sounds to me like you understand pretty well."  
  
"I'm trying to figure it out."  
  
Another long (and somewhat uncomfortable) pause, as Cassie fiddled with her knife, turning it over and over. Jack sipped a bit more of his beer, unsure what to say now. Sure, he had reasons for what he did, but it wasn't as if he ran around explaining them every day.  
  
"It's a habit," he said finally.  
  
Her head shot up. "A habit?"  
  
"Yeah." He looked past her, and out the dining room window. "After...after Charlie died, I didn't want to deal with everyone, well-wishers, co-workers, Sara, everyone. So, I..." He kept his eyes looking at the window, automatically noting the make and model of the car that zoomed by, and the way the setting sun hit the glass at an angle.  
  
"Jack..." Sadness was in her voice now--she'd apparently realized the nerve she'd hit.  
  
"It's okay," he said, looking at her now.  
  
She swallowed, looking a little nervous at what she'd started, and he flashed her a sardonic smile. "So," she said after a moment, "you started acting like this to push people away?"  
  
"I suppose so." He shrugged.  
  
"And then you got recalled to be part of the Stargate program."  
  
"Mm-hmm. And I wasn't any too thrilled about that, let me tell you."  
  
"Mom said you were a real pain in the ass when the program started."  
  
Jack choked on a sip of his beer, hacking and coughing the yeasty liquid through his nose and into his chest. Recovering, he looked at Cassie. "She did, did she?"  
  
"Yeah." Cassie crossed her arms and looked petulant.  
  
"Did she tell you she had a really crappy haircut, too?"  
  
One beat, two, Cassie blinked at him, then cracked up. Doubled over in laughter, she managed to speak. "Oh god, I remember that haircut. It was like a bowl cut for women!"  
  
Jack smirked at her as tears ran down her face. "Yeah, that's the one."  
  
Cassie snickered, grabbing a napkin to wipe her eyes. "Okay, so to drag you forcibly back to the topic..."  
  
Jack admitted defeat. "Yes?"  
  
"We've established that you say stuff to piss people off, to make them keep their distance."  
  
"Mmm."  
  
"It also makes them think you're dumb," she said, a note of confusion in her voice. "Doesn't that make it hard to get people to do what you want?"  
  
"I think you're underestimating the force of habit in the military. People will do what I say because I'm a colonel. They'll think about it later."  
  
"But why would you want people to think you're stupid?" Teenage Cassie seemed to be having trouble with this concept.  
  
Jack took a swig of beer to hide his grin. "Tactical advantage."  
  
She looked bewildered, and he waited, watching the thoughts pass across her face. He saw the moment when she got it. "D'you mean the bad guys really underestimate you?"  
  
"Yep. All the time."  
  
"And that helps?"  
  
"You bet."  
  
She pondered this for a while. "So, if some Goa'uld thinks you're not that smart, they might tell you something important."  
  
"Or say something important in front of me."  
  
"Do Sam and my mom and the general and everybody know what you're doing?"  
  
Jack shrugged. "Maybe." He'd long since stopped caring what people thought about him, but that was tough to explain to a teenager. All that mattered was surviving, making sure his team came back alive. He was willing to do absolutely anything to ensure that. Anything.  
  
Leaning back, she seemed to be thinking hard, so Jack gulped the last of his beer and started stacking the dishes. Automatically, Cassie reached out to help. "I've got it this time," he said, waving her away. She looked startled but appreciative, and moved into the living room.  
  
As he went into the kitchen with the dirty dishes, he heard her settle down on the couch. Water flowed into the sink, and he let the routine of cleaning distract him from everything she'd brought up.  
  
Scrubbing, rinsing, stacking in the drainer. No thinking about messy emotions and things here, just the smell of lemony detergent and warm bubbles floating in the air.  
  
"What else?"   
  
Her voice behind him seemed unusually loud, and, startled, he dropped a knife in the sink. "What?"  
  
"Is there anything else?" She leaned against the doorway, studying him closely.  
  
He turned back to finish the dishes, happy to get away from her steady stare. "I suppose so."  
  
"C'mon, cough it up."  
  
"Well, it makes people think about what they're saying, I guess. Makes 'em go back to the beginning and define their terms. Sometimes they think of things they wouldn't have otherwise." He rinsed the last glass, ran some water into the sink, then turned on the disposal to clear it out. The rumbling drowned out whatever she was saying in response. "Hmm?" he asked, finally turning around.  
  
She looked startlingly adult, he thought, intelligence and compassion warring for space in her expression. "So, you're willing to look dumb in order to make your team consider every option?"  
  
"Yeah." No room for error in what they did. No room for egos to get in the way of the mission--except that sometimes they did.  
  
"I don't know if I could do that."  
  
"I hope you don't have to."  
  
Jack leaned back against the sink and watched Cassie try to digest everything. The last of the setting sun came through the small window over his sink, painting the wall beside her a deep red. It looked remarkably unlike blood to anyone who'd seen as much blood as he had.  
  
"You're pretty smart," she said, her voice thoughtful.  
  
Jack grinned at that. "Don't sound so surprised."  
  
"I'm not. I told you, I tried to explain it to Sam, but she didn't listen to me." Cassie looked like a teenager again, scowling at the blindness of the world to her obvious adolescent brilliance.  
  
"So what made you ask me?"  
  
Cassie hesitated and seemed to change her mind about her response. "I wanted to know why Sam followed you. I mean, she's--"  
  
"Way smarter than me," Jack said, thinking of the last time he'd said that. "No doubt. No question at all. So's Danny. So's your mom."  
  
A flush spread across Cassie's face and she shifted uncomfortably in the fading light. When she ducked her head, it was nearly hidden in shadow, and Jack stepped forward, and patted her shoulder. "C'mon, let's go sit down."  
  
The old sofa fit Jack like a...well, like an old comfortable sofa that had seen its own wars. From a young Charlie jumping on it, to sleeping on it when Sara and he were on the outs, to bachelor life, the sofa was definitely one of his more loyal friends.  
  
Cassie curled up at the other end of the couch, knees pulled up to her chest, head bowed. Flicking on a couple of lamps, Jack marveled at the quick-changing moods of an adolescent, and tried to decide what she needed to hear, what would help her make sense of things.  
  
"Look, Cassie," he began a bit hesitantly, trying to see her expression.  
  
"You could get killed," she said, interrupting him. "Any of you, all of you. Hell, even my mom could get killed." Her voice was a bit muffled, but the pain was clear.  
  
Roll with it, Jack thought. "Yeah, that's true."  
  
Cassie looked up, and he saw tears glinting in the corner of her eyes. "Mom and Sam always say things like 'We'll do our best to come back.'"  
  
"Yeah." Jack thought about it. "They mean that, you know."  
  
"I know." She hugged her knees a bit tighter. "I want to understand why you all do what you do."  
  
Ah, that made things a bit clearer. "We've all got different reasons, and they're not always the kind of reasons you can explain to someone else."  
  
"I guess I can see that." She paused, looking uncertain again. "But I think I understand more than I did."  
  
"Then you're doing okay, kid."  
  
--end-- 


End file.
